


The Major Arcana

by kinkisthenewblack



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Explicit rating for later chapters, I got bored and wanted to bond with my new deck, Kind of weird tarot-inspired thingie, M/M, fanwitch, so I wrote porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2560103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkisthenewblack/pseuds/kinkisthenewblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically a series of drabbles in the Johnlock fandom (some fluff, some smut, some in-between) based on the Major Arcana of the Wild Wood Tarot. Chapter titles are card names (in order, 0-21). Though the names are slightly unorthodox, they're still fairly recognizable if you work with tarot. If not, go to  http://www.tarotpedia.com/wiki/Tarot_Cards  for a list of cards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Major Arcana

To John, Sherlock often seemed equally as naive as he was intelligent. There was something different behind his eyes, unknown and untamed, as he searched for answers to his latest puzzle. He'd once thought of his flatmate like a house cat, but that comparison was off. House cats were sometimes complacent and tended to sleep more than they played. Sherlock was more a raven, hopping manically from space to space, squawking out jarring insults at regular intervals, shining eyes seeing everything and processing even more.   
Suddenly, Sherlock turned from his perch atop his chair, "What are you smiling at?" he snapped.  
"Just realizing that you do, in fact, look like an overgrown bird of prey," John replied with a barely-suppressed smirk. At Sherlock's affronted expression, he burst out laughing. "You do!" He insisted, "You look like a massive raven, perched up there, your Mind Palace face on."  
Receiving nothing but a disgruntled glare in return, John settled back into typing at his blog, chuckling. 

The comparison occurred to John again, weeks later, when they were chasing a rogue suspect. As usual, Sherlock had them climbing fire escapes and jumping gaps between rooftops. As Sherlock jumped a particularly nerve-wracking distance, his coat billowed out behind him, and for a moment, he appeared to glide.  _A raven,_ John thought before throwing himself over the gap with decidedly less grace.   
  
At a crime scene, Sherlock crouched over the battered body of an accountant, rattling off everything he'd observed at first glance, John waited for his turn to examine the corpse (though blunt force trauma seemed a likely cause of death from the state of the body). For the first time in a long while, Sherlock did not ask John to examine the body. Instead, he leaped to his feet and rattled off the cause of death (actually a knife slipped between the victim's ribs, apparently), the motive, and a surprisingly long list of suspects, entirely composed of recently jilted lovers. As John and Lestrade stared at Sherlock in mild shock, he mechanically cocked his head to the side. "Right then, Quoth," John replied. Sherlock looked confused, and the Detective Inspector snickered.   
John called a cab to take them out for Chinese. 

**Author's Note:**

> In some of the literary fandom's opinion, "Quoth" is the name of Edgar Allan Poe's famous raven. (Quoth the raven - it's a bit of a play on words)


End file.
